


#2

by red__letters



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red__letters/pseuds/red__letters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have a strange dynamic, the three of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#2

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an old pairing/color/verb/smell meme. Pairing is obvious, color/verb/smell was crimson/squeal/vanilla.

Pete knows he is setting himself up for disappointment. He knows this is just some fun; an activity to alleviate boredom in the between-tour lull. He knows he should be laughing at the squeal of bedsprings (he can’t because it is too intimate, too intrusive) or the squeal of tires outside (he can’t because the sound is how he feels). He knows that the crimson tinge to the skin and lips on his; the blood right below the surface, as if it wants to touch him like the vessels carrying it, shouldn’t enrapture him like it does. He knows the smell of vanilla shampoo, sweet and making the air he breathes heavy, masking the saltiness in his mouth, it shouldn’t make his chest ache. The contrast of their three bodies, the difference in the skin with its beauty marks and scars and ink – it should be something to be briefly praised and then forgotten, but he can’t.

He can hardly act for staring. He doesn’t move until he has hands directing him: Mikey’s on his shoulders, Frank’s on his waist. They both lean in on either side of him, and he would cry from the perfection in the way they fit together, but he seems to be silenced by words he can’t or won’t say.

And afterwards, insomniac that he is, he won’t sleep. The air is cloying; like eating cotton candy at the beach – it should be perfect but it knots his stomach. He is riveted by the two hands entwined in the hollow of his hip. His arm is thrown over Mikey’s chest, and the disparity of their skin makes him choke. Frank’s leg wrapped around his, flesh tugging at his, makes him shudder. Whether it is good or bad, he doesn’t know. He rarely does.

He is acutely aware of the sun beginning to rise behind the blinds, and it makes him feel like an intruder to witness it. This should be perfect and he has managed to ruin it. The temperature in the room is rising and Pete can feel his hope and bitterness in the film beginning to cover his too-tight skin.

He knows the way Frank and Mikey look at eachother. And because he knows this, he knows this isn’t going to happen again. When something is perfect you don’t bring an outside factor into it; it knocks the entire balance off. So, knowing he is a catalyst and always will be, he pulls his pants on. He tosses a shirt over himself and ties his shoes and makes sure that the men he is leaving are covered by the blanket. He writes them a note.

He knows it could say “I love you both, and you are so in love with eachother that you don’t see it, but that’s ok, as long as I know that love can exist.”

Instead, it says “Thank you.”

He knows they will know what he means.


End file.
